


He Had Not The Luxury

by chiefenjolras



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Coping, Post-Movie, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-07 20:31:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8815297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiefenjolras/pseuds/chiefenjolras
Summary: After Grindelwald tears through New York he leaves a wake of destruction and while Percival Graves has had to clean up a lot of messes during his job as an Auror, this is one he was never prepared for.





	1. Gracious Guest

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first dip into writing anything involving the Harry Potter universe so forgive any misinformation. Otherwise, enjoy! I'm not sure how many parts this will have, I guess it just depends how much I can keep writing, but I have a few more things up my sleeve so expect more to come

Under the threat of war reinstating the Unforgivable Curses was a common occurrence. To assume it was done lightly would be a gross misunderstanding. Much like declaring war, it required intense deliberation by the most powerful wizards in every country. It wasn’t a decision to be passed by owls. Instead the leaders would gather themselves in a secluded room and discuss their options. When the decision was made it would be passed across the world. When the notification made itself public, it was often as if a wave had swept over the wizarding community for it was a herald of bad events to come.. They were unforgivable, but nothing in war could be forgiven.

Percival Graves had been lucky enough to never experience any of those unforgivable curses. Being an Auror he ran into his fair share of dangerous wizards, each one challenging him in a variety of ways. He wasn’t invincible, or the greatest wizard to live. Therefore, he’d had his share of slip ups, been at the receiving end of many painful spells, but all had been forgiving. Eventually, taking the job as Director meant his field days were few and far between. It was only when the threat level grew due to Grindelwald’s rise to power that he was able to leave MACUSA for more pressing matters in the city. They needed every wizard they could get and Graves was always ready to stretch his legs and remove himself from paperwork. 

Over time his days became filled with tracking down leads on rogue wizards, no-maj’s in need of obliviation, and the mysterious force plaguing his city. Not once did he miss the paperwork, though. At night it was a relief to go home exhausted rather than restless for once. The only flaw that came with a long day at work was that, late at night when he trudged home, his guard was apt to slip. To be fair, he never expected to apparate into his living room and find a man seated on the couch. In fact it was a few seconds after he set down his briefcase and hung up his coat before he noticed the man. By then, it was too late.

“Mr. Graves.” The man said, graciously. His hand had barely twitched and Percival Graves found himself bound and thrown against a wall. It didn’t take long for Graves to figure out who stood before him.

“Grindelwald,” He frowned, thrashing on the ground. Every spell that could potentially free him raced through his mind but nothing worked. This gradually struck a mix of awe and fear in him.

The Dark Wizard kneeled down next to him, “You and I are equals, Mr. Graves. So, I expect some level of respect.” He reached past Graves and removed his wand. 

The Auror struggled again, briefly. He didn’t quite need the wand, but the sight of it in someone else’s hands brought on a wave of discomfort. “Why are you here? Has the Ministry finally scared you out of Europe?”

Grindelwald chuckled. “Not quite. Rumors travel fast, including one of a magical force disrupting the peace right here in New York. I decided to check it out for myself.” He gazed down at the wand, admiring the sleek back wood it was carved from. “Tell me, Mr. Graves. What do you know of Obscurials?”

Graves huffed a quiet laugh of disbelief, “An Obscurous? They haven’t been seen for years. You’re in the wrong place, Mr. Grindelwald. I advise you go back to Europe and kindly turn yourself into the Ministry.”

“Mr. Graves, the sooner we get through this, the sooner I can be on my way. I’ve got places to go and things to do. Now, please, tell me everything you know.”

“I’m sorry Mr. Grindelwald, but I must refuse. You’re a psychopath and I will not allow myself to fall to your level.”   
Grindelwald straightened up from the floor, Graves’ wand being twirled between his fingers as he began to pace the room. “Mr. Graves. I do what I must...for the greater good.”

Graves adjusted himself from his side to his stomach. “So do I.” He watched as Grindelwald reached the end of the room, and he sighed heavily. “ _ Emancipare _ !” Whatever force held his body together sprang free and Graves jumped up from the floor, his hand whipping toward the other Wizard. The table in the center of the room screeched against the wood floor as it was jerked up and flung across the room. In a similar fashion, Grindelwald moved his hand and the table changed direction and shattered against the far wall. Graves ducked to avoid the splinters that jetted across the room and jerked his hand, the couch flinging across the room in response. Instead of deflecting it, Grindelwald muttered, “ _ Reducto _ ,” and it exploded into a fine ash. A jolt of white cut through the ash and nearly caught Graves in the chest. He barely deflected it, the spell slicing up his hand, and stumbled in the process. That split second of broken concentration gave Grindelwald the upper hand. Using Graves’ own wand he cast Crucio. 

The pain was immediate and intense. Percival Graves sunk to his knees and then the floor, ragged screams tearing from his chest. He thrashed, his body curling up, fingernails dragging along the floor. The pain was white hot, like thousands of needles jabbing into his skin. As soon as it arrived the pain let off, but his body still trembled from the memory of it that was already distant.

“Now that I have your cooperation, tell me what you know or I will force it out of you.” In the midst of the pain Graves hadn't even noticed that the living room had stitched itself back together, and Grindelwald was once again in his original spot, gazing at him from the chair.

He clenched his teeth, willing his body to stop trembling. He wasn't use to showing weakness, a man in his position didn't have the luxury of it. People looked up to him and he had to show them strength. Yet here he was, a sweating, trembling mess on the floor, body sprawled out, cheek pressed against the cool wood. He didn't have the luxury of showing weakness. “I can’t help you, Mr. Grindelwald. There’s nothing here for you in New York.”

The Wizard looked visibly disappointed. For a split second, Graves felt like a child being scolded by his parents. Grindelwald leaned back against the couch. “Very well.” He flicked the wand. The pain started again.

From then on the torture was nearly constant, and in the rare moments where it ceased Graves was simply stunned into unconsciousness. After awhile time began to fade in and out for the Director. It was either pain and interrogation or oblivion. He knew not how long he laid there on the floor, how long the torture lasted or how many questions were thrown at him. He simply repeated, “I can't help you.” 

There was a point where Graves swore he saw a mirror image of himself looking down at him with nothing but pity. In his state of mind though, he couldn't figure out what was real or not and could scarcely piece together a coherent thought. Over time the questions grew more urgent, the torture more creative. With that his answers grew more creative. He told Grindelwald everything and anything, but it was nothing the Wizard wanted to hear. He repeated rhymes from his childhood, the ingredients to potions he made in school, the address to the first house he ever lived in, but nothing useful. He was punished accordingly to his reponses.

Bones were broken, skin flayed and burned only for it to be healed and return back to normal. His memories were drawn out, thin and white, a gossamer thread paraded around to be picked apart. In the end nothing was hidden from the dark wizard. Graves fought every second he could, but any quick threatening movement was returned with a simple flick of the wand that sent him rolling in agony.

_ They'll come for me. They'll come for me. I'm the Director of Magical Security. I’m a Graves. Why haven't they come for me? I was too harsh, too cold. No one cares. No one is coming. _

He never voluntarily gave up information. Even after it was all done, it kept him going to know he never gave up information on his own free will. Of course, Grindelwald always got what he wanted whether it was by shuffling through memories, or pouring truth serum down Graves throats until he choked on it, the potion spilling down his neck and staining the collar of his shirt, but no amount of other kinds of torture made him talk. When the idea that no one cared for him, which is why no one came crossed his mind, he only bit his tongue harder. Spilling the truth would only prove them right. They were his people and he needed to protect them, even if they cast stones. 

He lasted for quite awhile. It wasn't until the third week of torture that Graves wished he was dead.  _ Kill me,  _ he begged.  _ Kill me kill me killmekillmekillme. _

“I can't kill you, I'm trying to help you,” Grindelwald would coo as if Graves was a child. When he broke Graves he would piece him back together, speaking softly all the while. After some time Graves would begin to long for that brief moment of healing, even if what followed after that was pain worse than before. Those brief moments kept him sane, which may have been the worst torture of all. He didn't get the luxury of insanity. 

Without warning, one day it ended, everything that bound him, kept him in that room simply vanished. It was hours before he could even think to move. A trick, he assumed. Grindelwald was testing him, lying in wait until he crossed the threshold, only to be dragged back into that infernal room. Every twitch filled him with the fear that he would end back up on the floor, fingers gouging lines into the floor. But that pain never came, no one stopped him, and so he left his apartment for the first time in nearly a month.


	2. Aftermath

November had given away to December and a thin blanket of snow littered the ground. As soon as Grindelwald had been captured and secured a group of Aurors were sent across the city to look for the Percival Graves. They found him lying in the alleyway outside his apartment, shivering, gaunt and torn up. His hair was shaggy, face covered in scruff. When they touched him he yelled and flinched, casting spells wildly. It took them an hour before they could convince him he wasn't in danger.

They brought him to a secluded sector of the MACUSA headquarters that was transformed into an infirmary of sorts when necessary. They placed Graves in a room there, under the careful watch of healers. It was small, the walls white with all the necessities. For all intensive purposes, it appeared just like a small apartment room. For Graves, it fit. He felt safer in those enclosed spaces. For the first week he stayed in the room he refused all visitors, only allowing the healers to come and go as they pleased. That meant Madam Picquery too. The day after they recovered Graves the President made her way into his ward. The door to his room had swung open and she stood there, mouth set grimly. He took one look at her and when he only saw pity he jerked his arm, the door slamming shut. He needed time to cope, to catch up with the world and come to terms with it all. It wasn’t until the second week that he felt like he could see other people without having the urge to vomit or shy away from any bit of contact, so he allowed visitors. They came and went, most not spending more than a few minutes in the same room with him. The Graves they knew before wasn't the same man found on the street. The third week they sent him home. He split his time equally between picking up his shattered apartment piece by piece, and working to be able to perform magic again at his previous level without any negative side effects. He picked up his normal wandless magic fairly quickly again. The constant rebreaking of the bones in his hands made it difficult at first due to the constant shaking that threw off many of the spells, but time, as everything, steadied them.

Unfortunately, his wand, recovered from Grindelwald, refused to obey him for quite some time. Ebony wood. It was particular about who could use it. The user had to be resolute and sure in themself. Graves could put on an outward appearance of confidence, but inside he was in constant torment and the wand knew it. He didn’t have the luxury of weakness. It would be awhile before it truly obeyed him again.

At the end of that third week is when Madam Picquery came to him once more. The door to his apartment had been locked, quite thoroughly, in fact, but a few personal spells undid it and she entered. His living room was still a mess. It could have been repaired easily with a few waves of the wand, but it wasn’t her job to do that. She wouldn’t interfere with Graves...healing process. When she found him he was seated on the edge of his bed, a small side table in front of him with a pensieve resting in the center. His eyes were closed, scarred hands gripping the edge of the bowl. When she approached him and gazed into the pensieve she could see the faint memory he had chosen. She had seen the same scene from Grindelwald after they had drawn out some of his memories. The President stood by him for awhile as he worked through the memory, gnashing his teeth and grimacing all the while. Occasionally he would settle down, eyebrows furrowed, and begin whispering to himself but she never caught the words. Finally, she rested a hand on his shoulder. Graves jerked out of the memory with a harsh gasp. He would have knocked the table over had the President not been there to steady it.

“Madam President!” He choked in surprise as he was pulled back to the present. She moved the table out of the way, her mouth once again set in a familiar grim line. He immediately cast his eyes downward, hands clutching the fabric at his knees. He’d never changed out of his sleepwear, how embarrassing. “I must apologize for my actions the other week, I-”

“Quiet, Graves.”

  
He quieted down, gradually lifting his eyes to her. At once she reached forward, cupping his cheek with a slender hand. “Deep breaths, it's okay.”  
In her line of work, just like him, she had to be steadfast, but in this moment with no one else in the room, she allowed that stern exterior drop in favor of her most respected Auror.

He stared at her for awhile, letting her cool touch draw him away from everything else. It was a constant reminder for him, that he wasn’t crawling on the floor of his room like some worm, waiting for the next curse. Once he had calmed down he pulled away from her touch and stood up. He paced to the other side of the room, gazing at himself in the mirror. He ran his hand over the beard he had grown and apologized once more. “Pardon my untidy appearance. I've been…preoccupied to say the least.” He ducked into his bathroom and picked up his wand and drew it past his face. A razor floating up beside him as he held his head over a sink and slowly shaved him. After the shave was done he flicked it again and a pair of scissors rose to trim his hair. When it was done he ran his hands back over his now clean shaven face and flourished the wand again. His sleepwear was replaced by his normal garb, something he hadn't worn in a few weeks. It felt better, like things were going back to normal. He swept back into his bedroom and found her gazing out of his window.

“I'm sorry, Graves.” She murmured, turning back to him. “We all are. We should have known it wasn't you but…” She trailed off, unable to find the correct words.

Percival Graves initially thought the worst pain he could possibly experience was from the Cruciatus Curse, but he was wrong. In fact, the worst pain was the aftermath. It lingered longer than any curse, and no amount of spells could heal it. In the end, he had become his own worst enemy. He had been gone for nearly a month. His appearance stolen. His thoughts and memories meticulously plucked from his brain and poured through like a library. He was left with books scattered on the floor, spines broken and pages torn and stained. You’ll be found out immediately he had threatened, gasping for air, limbs contorted in pain from a nasty bought of the curse. Yet, this man has persisted in his skin for weeks, and nearly succeeded in his destruction. He had nearly destroyed many of the people Graves cared for. Still, nobody had caught on. Not the President with whom he confided in everyday, and not the Goldstein girl, whom had confided in him. He could be distant and cold, it was always who he was. He never thought that might be his downfall though, that his body would betray him. To think he was so predictable, a psychopath could portray him convincingly for a month? That his actions were so harsh as to be believed that he might send one of his own Aurors to their death? That he would rebel against those he strived so hard to protect? The thought agonized Graves.

“It's fine.” Was all he could say in response.

“It's not. It really isn't. Our most respected Auror gets tortured, his identity stolen and not one of us notices?”

“It's too late to worry, Madam. What's done is done and all we can do now is…” His voiced died in his throat for a second and he had to pause to regulated his breathing. Once composed he picked up again, the words spilling from his lips as if it was the last statement he would ever make. “All we can do now is pick up the pieces and go from here. I've sat in this room moping and trying to pick up the pieces, but this isn't about just you or I, this is about everyone else. We could spent hours, even days discussing everything that went wrong, but we don’t have the time for it. We don't have the luxury of weakness, we have to restore order, or some semblance of order, for everyone else. I need to get back out there and do my job.”

She nodded solemnly. “I’d rather send you on a vacation to get you out of this god forsaken city, but it seems like you've spent enough time away from work...Very well, Mr. Graves. I must warn you, your face has been used to cause a lot of damage around here, don't be surprised if everyone is a little apprehensive.” He nodded, looking past her and out the window.

“I've spent enough time hiding, Madam President.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Working on chapter 3 as we speak. Probably have a few more chapters up my sleeve for this. Hope you've enjoyed so far!


	3. Progress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I've been home for break and haven't had much time to myself. Enjoy, there's still more to come!

Percival Graves never imagined he’d be a stranger in his own workplace. Going back to work wasn’t going to be easy, he knew that, but some of the looks he got as he strode to his office were a painful mix of pity and distrust. When coming back to work there were more times than he could count where he wished to apparate straight into his office or leave and go back home. After being an Auror for so long the respect from his co-workers was something constant, his name was revered, he had no need to be humble about that for his rank was a testament, but now the air was different. He felt small again, straight out of school, as if he was walking through the doors to MACUSA for the first time, a man trying to prove himself as an auror. 

This was his fourth day back at work and he still couldn’t relax.  _ Pull yourself together. Eyes straight, shoulders squared, head up high. You’re the Director of Magical Security, now act like it. _ He could feel the eyes piercing him though. He had failed in his duties and they knew and he was a lesser man to them because of it. He couldn’t handle Grindelwald on his own and his people suffered for it. 

The pain of that thought struck him so swiftly his heart began to hammer in his chest and he thought he might collapse. He slipped trembling hands into the pockets of his pants and continued walking, swallowing against the panic that sought to consume him. It was an eternity to his office, but once he reached it he shut and locked the door, slouching against dark wood. He just had to keep to his work and try to gain back their trust and respect, piece of cake. In the meantime all they left him with was paperwork and for the first time he was grateful.

A minute or so later, a hurried knock on the door startled him and he nearly smashed his head against the door when he jerked in shock. He moved away from the door, taking a few moments to breathe deeply and run his hands through his hair. When he was sure he didn’t look like he just had a mental breakdown he opened the door to find Tina Goldstein standing there, gaping at him.

“Oh, Mr. Graves. You surprised me.” She finally said, hands twisting in front of her.

“Miss Goldstein...this  _ is _ my office.”

“Right. Uhm, can I come in?”  
He paused, then nodded, stepping aside and sweeping his arm outward. She smiled somewhat weakly and entered. He shut the door, as quietly as possible he might note, but she jumped slightly and hastily sat down at the chair in front of his desk.

He moved around her and sat in his chair, hands folding together on top of the wood. “What can I do for you, Miss Goldstein?” He found it hard to be casual at work, despite wanting to put her at ease.

“I’m sorry for coming so late, they said you’ve been back for a few days now but I’ve been busy. This is ridiculous,” she brushed her hair behind her ear, hand shaking slightly. She quickly intertwined her fingers in her lap. “But...I just needed to see you in person, Mr. Graves.”

He stared at her for a moment before quickly dropping his eyes and nodding. Of course, her and her friends had been the ones to deal with Grindelwald in the end. If they hadn’t been there who knows what would have happened. 

Just as his own memories had been sifted through, he had been given a chance to sift through Grindelwald’s memories from those nights that he missed. He had done so cautiously. It had been a long and arduous process, every few memories left him with a panic attack that he had to ride out. Some of them he had gone through so many times they felt like his own memories. Of course, having his face attached to them didn’t make it any easier to separate himself, he felt personally responsible for it all.

“I’m sorry for everything you’ve been through. I hope you can learn to trust me again.” He told her, rather stiffly. Mentally, he swore at himself to lighten up.

“I know now that it wasn’t you, Mr. Graves. It’s just hard to adjust.” She smiled weakly again and stood up. “I’m sorry to take up your time, I’ll be on my way.” She was halfway to the door when he called her name, causing her to pause. She looked back at him, eyebrows raised.

“Would you join me for coffee tomorrow around 10? At the coffee shop on 8th? I’d like to talk.”

She nodded. “Sure. 10 o’clock.” With that she left. 

He waved his hand and the door closed and locked itself behind her. He sighed heavily, resting his face in his hands. He was just beginning to realize how much damage had been done in his absence for he wasn’t the only one who’d been abused. The second he had opened the door all he could see in Tina was the horrified look on her face when Grindelwald sent her and that boy to their deaths. She had trusted him and he threw it back in her face.  _ That was Grindelwald and you’re not Grindelwald _ , he had to tell himself constantly in the face of those memories, but it was still his face attached to those actions and he simply couldn’t let it go. Despite her tendency to be a bit rash and air-headed she had a big heart and a love for her job and the wizarding community and he respected her for that. She had worked under him for as long as he could remember, he had initially been the one to put in the request that she be promoted. Despite it all, she had honestly believed that he would have her executed. _ All those atrocities committed in my name and people simply accepted it. _ He thought back to the memory of the witch and wizard removing the two from the interrogation room, squirming and pleading, and he winced. He never blamed those who followed his orders. Besides, who had the right to deny the Director of Magical Security? Yet, the more he thought on it the more bitter he grew and the more glaring flaws in the system seemed to poke through at him. Thinking about it only made his anxiety worse, and those were problems for another day. With a final resigned sigh, he leaned forward in his chair and got started on paperwork.

Before the incident Percival Graves always considered weekends to be a waste. While it was true that before his parents passed away he would often spend weekends with them, but in more recent years he tried to fill his weekends with work related issues. He had been hardly sentimental and it was no skin off his teeth to spend a majority of his time alone. Therefore, he had denied all advances from coworkers for gatherings of any sort. Now, he found himself to be a little more sentimental, and slightly more drawn to social spaces. His past few weekends had been spent walking around the city, observing both No-Maj’s and wizards alike, but not as an Auror, simply as a person. He had lived in the area his entire life, knew the entire place like the back of his hand, but never really took a genuine look at it. 

Everything had become so serious for him since graduating school, a constant struggle to make it to the top of the ladder, to prove his family name,  and then he made it, and it never let go of him.  _ Percy, why are you so serious all the time? _ His mother would always ask when he came to visit. She had been a prominent witch in a powerful position for most of her life, but she had always found room to show unconditional kindness and now, more than ever, he missed her dearly. That morning before heading to the coffee shop, he made a detour to his parents gravesite and laid down some flowers at the door of the mausoleum, taking a few minutes to talk to them, chin sunk to his chest and face hidden by an upturned collar before vanishing into thin air.   
\---

He reappeared in an alleyway not far from 8th street, no one noticing his arrival in the hustle and bustle of the city. If there was one thing that hadn’t changed about Graves was his love for coffee. This coffee shop had been a regular of his for years. He made sure to point this out to Tina as he sat down across from her, for the bartenders knew him well, and in their excitement of seeing Graves in the company of another, showered them with free food and drinks for the morning. Despite his advances to paying them back, every time he left any sort of change it always ended up back in his wallet later on.

After a young wizard took Tina’s order she turned to Graves, the small smile on her lips falling in a somewhat grim frown. “How--How are you doing, Mr. Graves?”  
_Awful,_ he wanted to tell her. _I feel inadequate at work but there’s nowhere I can turn there to relieve it. I’m an Auror, not a damn schoolboy, so I try and contain my emotions. Going home at night is both a blessing and a curse. I can finally unbottle myself, but there’s nothing at home to keep my mind off of it all. I have constant nightmares that make it hard to sleep, I wake up screaming and paranoid. I’ve ruined four sets of sheets in the past few weeks and every other day I have to fix my apartment because of fits of anger._

Instead he responded, “I’m okay. It’s been good to get back into the swing of things, I’ve missed it.” A silence settled between them, the two twisting coffee mugs in their hands. She knew he was lying and Graves knew that. Her sister’s abilities were of no secret to him. The day he had returned back to work he had passed Queenie Goldstein in the hall.  She had gasped quietly and nearly dropped the large pile of files she was carrying. After that he worked to consciously shield his mind every time he was in the same vicinity of her. He exhaled in resignation. “Your sister…”

“I’m sorry.” Tina blurted out. “That’s the first time she’s done it to you, I promise. She didn’t mean to pry, but she just wanted to make sure…”

“No, I get it.” He had grown use to people trying to pick at his mind now. Graves looked around the coffee shop at all the wizards that shifted around endlessly in their busy days. He brought the mug up to his lips and took a sip.  “I must admit, with the amount of looks I got when I returned to work I thought I must have forgotten to change out of my sleepwear.” His words were slightly muffled by the mug hiding the lower half of his face and Tina ducked her face as she began to laugh in surprise.   
“Oh, Mr. Graves, I’m sorry.” She took a few breaths to calm down and when she looked at him she saw he was smiling.   
“No need to worry, Miss Goldstein, I could use some laughter. Please, we’re not at work, relax.”  
She nodded cautiously, “Tina, then, if you would?”

“Mhm, Percival, then. I think owe you that.” He tipped his coffee mug to her before taking another drink. “I’m glad to see you’ve been reinstated as an Auror. That previous fiasco with the Barebone family was unfortunate, and still is, but it’s good to see you back.” He paused, musing over his next words. “After this entire event, I must admit my fear of the No-Maj seems so miniscule in comparison to everything else. Mrs. Barebone was an awful woman, more-so than I could have imagined that first night we had to go to their house. You were just doing the right thing.”

“It was stupid of me to lash out like that and you were just doing your job.” She swirled the bug in between her hands, gazing down into it.

“That doesn’t always mean it’s the right thing to do, Tina. But, what’s done is done.” He paused as their food arrived, thanking the bartender. For him, he stuck with a simple panini, while Tina decided on a breakfast sandwich. In between bites he picked up their conversation again. “Tell me about Mr. Scamander. I’ve gotten bits and pieces, but you’re the one who seems to know him best.”  
She paused mid-bite to stare at him, caught off guard by the question and quickly set the sandwich down, a fond smile turning up the corner of her lips. In no time she had started on her tale of the initial meeting with the magizoologist.  
Graves listened carefully, drawing in every word between sips and bites, occasionally interjecting to ask questions. He was drawn to the strange wizard that Tina weaved in front of him, primarily out of gratitude, but also from curiosity that had also been echoed in Grindelwald’s memories. There was more to Mr. Scamander than anybody let on.

After she recounted their final face to face meeting at the docks he asked her if she knew where the magizoologist was and by the subtle collapse of her expression he guessed she knew not.

“Last I heard he was back in England. I'm not sure where, probably up to some sort of trouble, but I'm sure if you sent an owl out, you'd get a response. No doubt Newt will be fascinated to learn you’re okay.” 

“Unfortunately I'm too busy so go running after him, but yes, hopefully we can trade correspondence.”

A comfortable silence grew between them as they worked to finish their food before it grew cold, drinks replenished each time the mugs grew dry. 

Eventually, Graves shifted in his seat, growing noticeably more uncomfortable as time went on. He finally spoke up after some time, hands twisting around the mug between his fingers. “I’m sorry to bring this up again, but we have a quite a history together, Tina. We’ve worked together for many years, and I consider you an acquaintance, at the least. I never got around the building much other than to occasionally bark orders and manage my Aurors. Your sister has made no secret of my inner thoughts so, I have to ask...why could no one tell I wasn’t there? It’s consumed every waking thought of mine and every time I try and work through it I find myself at an impasse. Have I really been that harsh? I understand I’m not the easiest person to get along with and often work takes precedent over relationships, but where have I gone so wrong in my time as an Auror to lead to this?” For him it felt as if a hush had drawn over the coffee shop, all eyes focused on him but in reality that same activity continued on. Graves wanted to vanish into his cloak.

In a brief moment of sympathy she reached over the table to wrap her hands around his. “You have to stop blaming yourself.” As he looked down at their hands she hastily removed hers and curled them in her lap, gazing evenly at him. He didn’t meet her gaze, instead staring into the mug. “Everyone in MACUSA respects you. I don’t know what happened with Grindelwald, I’ve thought about it many times as well and I think between the Obscuras moving through the city and the chaos with the No-Maj everyone got lost. Grindelwald took advantage of that chaos. It wasn’t you, it was us. We all failed you.”

He nodded but she could tell she hadn’t convinced him. Queenie had warned her that night after work as they were seated for dinner. “That poor man.” She had muttered, absentmindedly waving her wand to stir her tea in response, “There’s so much self-loathing and doubt. He’s in a dark place, Tina. His mind snapped shut the instant he felt me, but there was something there that wanted me to know, wanted  _ someone _ to know.” 

_ Graves is strong he’ll recover in no time _ , Tina had initially thought but now she knew just how human he was.  _ Maybe he should go see Newt, it might take his mind off things and allow him to relax. He needed out of work and out of the city.  _ She was at a loss for words for some time, unable to formulate what to say to validate his issues, to give him some sort of comfort. She needed to work with his feelings, as they were, not what she wanted them to be. He thought he was guilty for everything that happened and wouldn’t listen otherwise, so she had to work with what was given. Prior to this moment she would have never even considered talking to the famous Auror Percival Graves in such a personal way, but he had approached her and opened up to her, an opportunity rarely given by a solitary man such as he. Therefore, she decided to take a stab in the dark.

“I forgive you, Percival.” 

His gaze jerked up from his cup to her, mouth parted slightly as words failed him.

“I don’t hold any of this against you, and if there’s anything you feel you did that hurt me, I forgive you for it. I’m sure it’s not easy to simply accept what I tell you, but I mean it all wholeheartedly. You’ve done more for me than I could ever properly put into words, so try to not beat yourself up over it all.”

He remained quiet, hands curling around the mug tighter to stop the tremble that worked it’s way through the nerves. He swallowed somewhat loudly before choking out a ‘Thank you, Tina.’ He cleared his throat and hastily dug through his pocket to pull out a watch.  “Look at the time, I’ve kept you here long enough and it’s far too early to listen to an old man like me ramble on.”

“You’re only a few years older than me.” She laughed.

“Don’t remind me, I still remember you as a fresh-faced Auror.” He groaned but the end broke into a quiet laugh. “I remember our first day on the job together.” 

Tina pushed her seat back and stood up, “Alright, Mr. Graves. Time to get going!” She shook her head and grabbed her coat draped over the back of the seat. “Each time you bring that up I think I lose a few years off my life.” 

“Nonsense. Come, let me walk you home.” 

She nodded and they exited the shop. On the street Graves picked up their conversation again. “The wizard we chased down was selling hexed objects--”

“--and botched potions, illegally selling them to the no-maj--”

“--we had our hands busy with those no-maj for months after that--”

“--I’d never seen Madam Picquery so mad before--”

“--she had every available Auror on the streets looking for him--”

“--we chased him to a rooftop, he apparated right on the edge--”

“--you jinxed him right into a dumpster below, nearly fell in after him--”

“--it had just rained, the building was slippery--”

“--ha! You were so eager and angry you would have chased him all the way to--”

“--Mr. Graves, please. At least we caught him--”

“--we did, and I was proud to call you one of my own Auror’s after that--”

The conversation gradually quieted between shared laughter of the memory and they stopped outside her apartment. She turned to him. “Thank you for lunch. I’d like to do it again sometime.”

“Of course. My pleasure, Tina.” He half-smiled at her, his eyes still tinged with sorrow. She smiled in return and reached out to touch his forearm.  “You don’t need to do this alone, Mr. Graves. Enjoy your weekend.” She turned and ducked into her apartment building. He stood outside the building for a few minutes, hands in his pockets gazing out onto the street before seeming satisfied enough to leave.


End file.
